


Anniversaries

by Lady of Prompts (Aethelflaed)



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale and Crowley Have Their Picnic (Good Omens), BAMF Aziraphale (Good Omens), ButterOmens, Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Established Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Established Relationship, Gabriel Being an Asshole (Good Omens), Happy Ending, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M, Marriage Proposal, Post-Canon, Protective Aziraphale (Good Omens), Swordfighting, technically it's another picnic but still
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-22
Updated: 2020-03-22
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:40:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23253340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aethelflaed/pseuds/Lady%20of%20Prompts
Summary: Just over a year after the Apocalypse didn't happen, Aziraphale and Crowley's picnic is interrupted by an old enemy.--Crowley could only watch helplessly as the Archangel stalked towards Aziraphale, who looked so small, so frightened, tartan umbrella clutched in his hands.“Let him go. Please.”Gabriel laughed. “Why would I do that? Do you have any idea how much trouble you two have caused for us?"--This was my contribution to the original ButterOmens prompt!
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 54
Kudos: 329





	Anniversaries

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Mine](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/570115) by n0nb1narydemon. 



> This fic was created during the ButterOmens event, inspired by [this fic](https://n0nb1narydemon.tumblr.com/post/611828985767297024) by [n0nb1narydemon.](https://n0nb1narydemon.tumblr.com/)
> 
> ButterOmens invites all content creators to participate, by reinterpreting, expanding, or retelling each other's works in any medium. If you would like to contribute, please remember to tag the original post on Tumblr! All content types are welcome, and the event is still ongoing!
> 
> Rules for the ButterOmens [can be found here.](https://n0nb1narydemon.tumblr.com/post/611808756218707968) Thanks to n0nb1narydemon and [acuteangleaziraphale](https://acuteangleaziraphale.tumblr.com/) for coming up with this event!

It happened, as one might expect, a little more than a year after the apocalypse was averted.

“Which anniversary are we celebrating today?” Crowley asked as the Bentley wound its way along the narrow country road. “I know its not our first kiss, that was three weeks ago.”

“Um,” Aziraphale agreed, turning a fascinating shade of pink at the memory. “Ah, yes, first picnic perhaps?” He patted his hands on his knees.

“No, that’s September 28. Remember? It took us over a month to agree on what we were supposed to eat.” Eventually they’d decided that anything could technically be picnic food, as long as it came out of a basket and was eaten outdoors.

“Er, first time you slept at the bookshop?”

“That’s not for a week and a half. Unless you count passing out on the sofa after too much wine. Then its April fifth.”

“First time I rode in the Bentley?”

“May tenth,” he scoffed. Did Aziraphale assume he’d forget such things, just because he was a demon?

“Well. If you’re so clever, why don't you tell me?”

“Because _you’re_ the one who wanted an anniversary picnic,” Crowley reminded him, pulling off the road to park at their third-favorite picnic spot (Aziraphale’s second-favorite, but Crowley’s fourth; he didn’t like the smell of salt air, though the sound of the waves was nice). “Did you honestly ask for one without knowing what you were celebrating?”

“No. I know exactly why we’re here.” With one last smug-bastard grin, he climbed out of the car.

Crowley considered his options as they gathered a few items from the back seat: the large woven basket he slipped over his arm, the tartan blanket Aziraphale clutched under his. Hands clasped loosely, they walked through the wide meadow atop the seaside cliff, looking for a good spot. In spring, it had been dotted with red and white flowers, but in September, it was nothing but twisted trees and waist-high grass bowing to the wind.

“Well. Two days ago was the anniversary of our first glass of wine. Next Thursday is the first time I laughed at one of your jokes, even if it was really _not_ funny.”

“What was it?” Aziraphale’s brow furrowed. “The one about the priest of Bacchus?”

“No. It was that one about the donkey and the baker’s son. Don’t even try, it’s not going to work in English. It barely even worked in Akkadian.”

“Your memory is extraordinary, dear.” Aziraphale squeezed his hand before letting go to spread the blanket. “Though it sounds as though we’ve missed quite a few celebrations.”

“Eh, after six thousand years, every day is an anniversary of some kind.” He frowned, setting down the basket and dropping to loll across the blanket beside it. “Except today. Can’t think of a thing.”

“Really? Not one special moment in six thousand years?”

“Nope. Well. Forty-three years ago was the first time you tried to bake a cake. But that’s not really an ‘us’ thing. I only know about it because you complained every day for a week about how it came out.”

“Hardly worth celebrating,” Aziraphale agreed, hands now patting at his waistcoat. He glanced up at the sky. “Oh, I say. It is rather bright today, isn’t it?”

Crowley pulled off his sunglasses, looking around the meadow without darkened lenses. “Not really. It’s actually a bit cloudy.”

“Is it? Well. I should get my umbrella.” Aziraphale spun back towards the Bentley. “In case it rains. Or gets bright again.”

“Angel!”

“I’ll be right back. Two ticks of a lamb’s tail.” He waved a hand vaguely. “Start unpacking, there’s a dear.”

Crowley started to object, but there was no point trying to stop Aziraphale once his mind got like this.

Inside the basket, Crowley found duck ballotine stuffed with something pistachio scented, several small lobsters, Cornish flatfish with caviar, some truffle-and-celery based vegetable dish, and venison fillet. He was just rearranging everything to make space for the desserts when the thunder started.

He glanced up at the clouds; they didn’t seem thick enough for rain; perhaps it was just an echo off the cliffs below? No, something was coming. He could sense it. Feel it in the hairs standing up all along his arms. “Angel? You might want to –”

A violet-tinted bolt of lightning split the sky, striking only a few dozen feet from where Crowley crouched.

When his vision cleared, he beheld the Archangel Gabriel.

He hadn’t changed much since he’d stood in Heaven and told Crowley (who he thought was Aziraphale) to shut his mouth and die already. His hair wasn’t quite as neat, and the coldness of his eyes had been replaced by a smoldering fury. He was also holding a Holy Sword. “Well,” he sneered, looking at Crowley the way humans looked at slugs. “If isn’t Hell’s most wanted.”

Crowley didn’t waste time responding. With every bit of speed he possessed, he leapt to his feet, wings bursting out of the ether like black shadows as he lunged for Gabriel.

“Ah.” The Archangel flicked a finger, and Crowley froze in mid-leap. “None of that. I don’t know how you two avoided your punishments last time, but I’m not letting you interfere again.”

It was impossible. Crowley stood, balanced on one foot, arms partially raised. He couldn’t move a muscle, not a finger, not even his eyes. No angel – not even an Archangel – should have that kind of power. Only a demon lord…

“Hmm, I think you’re getting it.” Gabriel smiled as if it was all a joke. “Our new allies downstairs have been _very_ generous. They taught me this trick in return for promising to find a way to kill you.” He hefted his sword, which burst into flames. “I figure, this sword killed enough demons in the rebellion. It’ll probably work on traitors, too.” The point of the blade hovered inches from Crowley’s throat. “They also told me to make sure you saw what comes next, but I haven’t been feeling very patient lately. If Aziraphale doesn’t get here soon…”

“I’m here.”

With a smirk, Gabriel turned away. Crowley could only watch helplessly as the Archangel stalked towards Aziraphale, who looked so small, so frightened, tartan umbrella clutched in his hands.

“Let him go. Please.”

Gabriel laughed. “Why would I do that? Do you have any idea how much _trouble_ you two have caused for us? Are _still_ causing for us, every day we let you live out this…this perverted lifestyle, this fantasy that you’re, what? Human?” He swept his sword to point at Crowley. “He’s a _demon._ How can you even stand to let him _touch_ you?”

Aziraphale’s hands tightened on the umbrella. “We just want to be left alone.”

“So did I!” Crowley had never heard that sort of anger in Gabriel’s voice before, but Aziraphale clearly had. He flinched, his jaw clenched, but he didn’t back down. “If it hadn’t been for your interference, your _treason,_ the War would be over by now! We’d be cleaning up the last traces of this…this degraded material world, casting the demons back into the pits where they belong. And now instead we’re _working with them.”_

“That isn’t our concern,” Aziraphale said quietly. “Please. Just leave us.”

“Not a chance.” Gabriel swung his sword.

Crowley tensed every muscle, trying to break free of the invisible grip that held him, trying to get to his angel in time.

He needn’t have bothered.

The moment Gabriel began his attack, Aziraphale’s pure white wings swept down from the ether, launching him forward. The umbrella in his hand easily parried the sword in a flash of blue-white light, knocking it clear across the meadow, even as his shoulder caught Gabriel in the chest, throwing him to the ground.

What Gabriel had forgotten – what Crowley really should have remembered – was that Aziraphale was a warrior. A Guardian. Gabriel may have fought in the war, but he was a bureaucrat, designed for organization and leadership and decision making.

Aziraphale was designed to protect…and to act.

As fast as Gabriel tried to spring to his feet, Aziraphale was ready for him, cracking his skull with a blow that would have killed a mortal, and left the Archangel dazed. In a breathtaking burst of speed, Aziraphale struck him again and again – the chest, the backs of the knees, the gut, the nose – umbrella spinning around him like a waterwheel.

With one final crack to the back of his skull, Gabriel toppled like a tree, crashing face-first into the meadow grass. Aziraphale grabbed him by the ankle, spun him through the air, and slammed him down again, on his back. He braced his foot on Gabriel’s chest, wings flared, pointed the umbrella at his throat, and said in a tone cold as the depths of space: “Let. My. Friend. Go.”

Whatever force held Crowley vanished; he stumbled forward, falling to his knees beside the blanket, wings falling slack at his sides. He still couldn’t move, could hardly breathe. The sight of his angel in action was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.

A ghost of a smile shot across Aziraphale’s face as he watched Crowley, then he turned back to Gabriel, scowling furiously. “We just want to be left alone.”

“You’ll never be left alone,” Gabriel snarled, but now there was an edge of fear in his voice. “You have no idea what we have planned for you next. You can’t seriously think you can oppose God’s will and get away with it.”

“No, I don’t. If She really wanted to stop me, there would be nothing I could do. But She hasn’t said anything yet, has She?” He stepped back, swinging the umbrella up to rest on his shoulder. “Leave us. Don’t let me find you on Earth again. This is your only warning.”

Gabriel stood, brushing himself off. “This isn’t the last you’ll hear of us.”

“Of Heaven, no. But I imagine it’s the last I’ll hear of you.” Aziraphale strode forward, and this time it was Gabriel who seemed to shrink with fear. “Now that your impatience has warned us that Heaven and Hell are planning something, I don’t think either side will be too welcoming to you. You’ll probably need to find someplace very far away to wait out the rest of eternity. I hear the Magellanic Clouds are nice this time of year. But look on the bright side, my good fellow. It can finally be over for you.”

Crowley had just enough time to see how wide Gabriel’s eyes could get before he vanished in a burst of light. Then they were alone again, an angel, a demon, and the sound of the waves below.

“Aziraphale,” he managed to whisper.

Aziraphale had been standing at least fifty feet from Crowley; he crossed that distance in less than a second, with a single beat of his wings, leaving the umbrella to tumble, forgotten, into the grass. He knelt down, one arm wrapping around Crowley’s back, one hand smoothing through his hair, coming to rest on the back of his head. “I’m here, my Crowley. I’m here. Are you hurt?”

“M’fine, Angel.” His trembling hands cradled Azirphale’s round face. “You were…that was…” There weren’t any words for it. “Ngk,” he finally managed, leaning forward to rest his forehead against his angel’s.

“Oh, my dear.” Aziraphale’s wings folded around them both, like a protective shell, like a warm cocoon. “Oh, Crowley.” His arms tightened, pulling them closer, as he made a noise between a laugh and a sob. “I’m just…I’m so glad you’re safe.”

“Course I am,” Crowley laughed. “I have you watching over me.” Aziraphale chuckled, nodded his head. “Although,” Crowley continued, “I think our picnic is ruined.”

“No!” Aziraphale spun to look at it. _Ruined_ might be overstating it, but the lobster and the fish were scattered across the grass, and everything had gone cold. “Oh, dear. This is…oh, I had it all planned.”

He seemed more distressed by this than by Gabriel’s interruption. Crowley smiled. “There’ll be other picnics, Angel.”

“No, but today was…ooooh.” Aziraphale climbed to his feet and shoved his hands in his pockets, dejected.

Crowley followed suit. “What _were_ we celebrating, anyway? You never did say.”

“Well it’s just…oh, I had this whole speech. Er. Look, Crowley. One thousand years, four months and eighteen days ago, you approached me about an Arrangement.”

“Yes,” the demon said slowly. “And you got back to me on November fourteenth. That’s still almost two months away.”

“Well, yes. Because communication was slow back then. But one thousand years ago _today_ is when I…I made up my mind. To say yes. To trust you. To see where this…whatever we were, where it would lead. And it led us here.” He glanced over his shoulder, to where Gabriel’s sword still burned, violet-white flames licking the grasses without setting them alight. “Here, to a lovely field where my former supervisor attacked us, oh, this isn’t right at all.” He pulled his hands out of his pocket and held one towards Crowley, eyes fixed on the ground between them. “Just. I…I thought we should have something to commemorate a thousand years of the Arrangement. And our new…whatever we are. If you’ll have me. Have it. Er.”

His hand fell open. Inside was a ring: black tungsten on the outside, bright red on the inside, and across the face of it, two lines twining together, copper and silver.

For the second time today, Crowley had forgotten how to speak.

“Angel,” he finally managed. “Are you…asking me to marry you?”

“I hardly think we could be more, well, more _us_ than we already are. But. I suppose. I thought it would be nice to…to mark the occasion.” His eyes finally rose enough to meet Crowley’s. “Oh…oh, never mind it was a foolish –”

That was as far as he got. Crowley gave up on words entirely, wrapping his arms around Aziraphale’s waist, pulling them together, lips joining in kiss after kiss after kiss. After a moment, Aziraphale began kissing him back, more and more fiercely, arms wrapping around his neck, wings twining around each other to hide them from the world.

Crowley tipped his head back, far enough to say, “If you drop that ring, I am _not_ helping you find it.”

“Oh,” Aziraphale pulled him back down for another kiss. “I suppose you have another anniversary to keep track of now,” he whispered.

“I think I’ll remember this one.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! As always, please comment or kudos if this brightened your day! :)
> 
> Opening line, fight choreography, and post-battle romantic moment are from n0nb1narydemon‘s original story. Thank you for giving me an excuse to FINALLY have someone kick Gabriel’s butt. Man, I can’t believe I’ve been writing for NINE MONTHS and it hasn’t come up yet!
> 
> The picnic foods are inspired by the Ritz’s menu, something called The Seven-Course Epicurean Menu which really had Aziraphale written all over it.
> 
> Finally…is this my second proposal in-story? Plus the accidental not-quite-a-proposal in Sealed. Yeah, can't believe I keep doing that. X^D I honestly agree with Aziraphale that they couldn’t really be more married than they already are, but sometimes it just feels right.


End file.
